A Wolf and a Storm Collide
by The Doctor's Slave
Summary: The Doctor snaps and decides to steal a weapon from Torchwood, but instead finds a beautiful 17 year old girl strapped to a table where the weapon should be. The Doctor doesn't know what to do: Keep her? Kill her? USE her?  Rated M for future chapters!


The setting here is in a parallel world where, after leaving Rose to his human self, none of the events leading up to now happen to the Doctor. Two years comes and goes with no one on board the TARDIS with him and he is slowly consumed by his inner darkness until he finally snaps and kind of turns insane.

(Hope you like it! First published story! Maybe some sex in later chapters. Rated M just in case. XD)

**The Doctor and the Literal Bad Wolf  
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It had been two years since the Doctor had given up Rose to his other self on the beach of Bad Wolf bay; two agonizing years spent with a huge gap in his soul, a gap which was now almost completely filled with darkness.

Day after day would go by with no companion, no friend, save, the TARDIS, and still his hearts grew colder. The few people that did occasionally come abroad with him only ever stayed a short while and his smile never reached his eyes. When he slept which wasn't often, his dreams were always tormented and filled with despair and loneliness.

The Doctor had always told himself that Rose was still with him, still a part of him and happy now that his other self could grow old with her. But the realization that she was gone wasn't the main thing that was eating at him. It was really the loneliness; the fact that he wasn't loved; that he didn't have anyone there to comfort him, to save him from the darkness in his mind that was slowly consuming him. He was alone in the universe, so there was no one stopping him from doing something stupid.

That something came on the day before the 3 year anniversary of giving Rose away, when the Doctor decided to start taking things into his own hands, even if it meant losing his status in the universe...

The Doctor's mind raced endlessly while he swiftly paced around the console, whirring the TARDIS to life. Today, it seemed, he had finally snapped. He was going to do something very stupid and very risky.

_It has to be done_, he thought as the TARDIS landed in its destination, _before I seriously hurt someone. _He flipped a couple of switches and pushed some buttons on the control panel, then ran down the metal platform to where the two white doors of the Police Box stood. He hesitated; in the back of his mind, he was arguing with himself.

_You can't do this! You know it's not right, _the other, saner part of him said._ Put yourself together man and THINK! _

_Oh, what do_ you_ know?_ He countered._ With all that's happened to me and all I've been through, it's a wonder I haven't died yet!_

_You idiot, I _am_ you! The better, more reasonable side! I know exactly what you've been through. You've got to listen to yourself! THINK! _

It did little to clear his mind, but instead deepened his anger and sadness. He flung open the door and stepped outside. He was greeted with a face-full of wooden crates that were all labeled "fragile. The TARDIS sat snuggly in between a stack in the corner, almost hidden from view. This was in a small, white room with tile flooring and one bright light bulb on the ceiling, nestled within the winding corridors of the main Torchwood facility outside of England, present time.

He flicked out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the crates out of habit; they were all filled with a rare blue stone called Victinite from the planet Dayramere in the 9th galaxy. All though a handful of the hallucinogen would be nice to have around in case of emergencies, he was here for a different, more important, reason.

For months now, a rumor had been spreading across Earth and a few nearby planets that Torchwood had discovered and had in their possession a new type of weapon that was capable of killing anything and everything it wanted in the blink of an eye. They were saying it was even more powerful than what lied in the Pandorica, a mythical box that was said to contain the ultimate destroyer. A few weeks ago, the Doctor overheard a former Torchwood employee speaking about said weapon and, after some "persuasion" on his part, let slip the location of where it lay.

_And now_, he thought, _I'm going to steal it. _He tried not to think as he ran quietly down the deserted white hallway.

For most of the trip, the Doctor wasn't quite aware of where he was going or what he was doing, so caught up in his failed attempt to not think. He remembered flashing his psychic paper a couple of times and talking to some of the staff, then punching a man unconscious, which he tried not to dwell on. He then found himself standing in front of a thick, black metal door with a sign that said "Authorized Personnel Only" and then below it, "All Occupants MUST Have a Restraining Tool and/or Weapon when in This Area!"

_Ooh, so scary! I think we should meet our occupant, don't you think?_ He asked mockingly to his imaginary other self in his mind, but there was no reply as he passed the warning by, opened the door and walked in.

_It's dark;_ she thought hazily, _it's so dark…where am I?_ She tried to look around, but found she couldn't._ Why is it so dark? Why can't I move? _Her fight or flight instincts started to sky-rocket way out of proportion even though she just woke up. Or did she? Was she really awake? Was this a dream? But it felt so real. She was struggling, moving arms that she couldn't feel.

_Then how do I know that I'm moving at all? What's holding me down in the first place?_

All of these questions raced through her mind as she flailed, not knowing who she was, why she was here, or where she came from. It was all terrifying, and…what was the word…lonely? Yes, that was it, lonesome; extreme lonesome, _beyond_ lonesome. She had never felt like this before. It seemed as though she should be surrounded by…something…her kind.

_Her kind?_ She startled herself with this thought. _W-what would my kind be…?_ Before she could think any farther into it, she felt a tingling; a tingling that wasn't physical, but was in her mind…it was stirring, buzzing like a bee trying to get outside through a window. And then, it broke through.

"Open your eyes…" It was barely a whisper, just a shadowy breath skimming over her conscious mind, but it was there all the same, forcing her into a standstill in the darkness.

"Open your eyes…" it said again, this time a bit louder.

But…no-wait; it wasn't an_ it_, it was a _he_. A man was talking to her…through her mind? Yes, through her mind; that was the only way to describe where she was. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but seeing as she couldn't feel it, nothing happened.

She was hardly even breathing, so hard was she trying to hear that voice again, when suddenly she felt a quick, sharp, stinging pain on her face, jolting throughout her body, and this time she could _feel _what was happening. She had regained some of her senses, and now it felt as if she was lying on a something, maybe a table. But…what had happened to make her feel the pain? Was it something the man did? It made her feel surprised…but why? Had she never felt pain before? Something stirred in the back of her mind. A memory? No, it's gone. She didn't even get to see what it was when, quick as it did before, a pain shot through her, starting at her face.

_Ow_, she thought. And then it came to her in a rush of anger. _Did he just SLAP me? I think he just SLAPPED me! _She was hysterical for a brief moment, when she heard him speak again, this time with an irritated and almost pleading edge to his voice.

"Open your eyes, damnnit…" he growled, and once more she felt his hand, but it was different this time; it felt as if it were softly running its way down her cheek, like he was caressing her. And she liked it; it felt good, natural, like it was suppose to happen. He paused when he reached her neck.

And right as his hand came to a halt, a white lightning streak of something flashed across her minds vision. It was two words; just two little words that felt extraordinarily close to her and so full of power, yet she had no idea what they meant.

She took in a quick, deep gasp as light flooded her eyes, her open eyes that looked straight into his deep brown ones as she whispered the two words in deathly quietness:

"Time Lord."

The Doctor's mind was completely frozen for a moment as the weight of her words settled into his mind. He was absolutely, positively stunned, which happened very, very rarely. He was first surprised when he walked into the room that she looked like a 16, 17 year old girl strapped to a table, or at least in the shape of a girl, with long black hair. And, out of all the things he thought she would say when he finally got her to open her eyes, it was far from "Time Lord." That's exactly what he was and it disturbed him because his kind are…were…but a myth.

_How did she know,_ he thought. _It wasn't just some freak accident. Was it because I touched her? Did I transfer some of my physical DNA into her brain, or physiologically let her into my thoughts? _Those were unlikely things to happen, but might have been plausible in this situation.

And now she stared up at him with those unnaturally green eyes, searching his face, studying him. And that's the same thing he was doing to her. Here in this cramped white room they were both trying to figure out who each other were, even though they themselves didn't fully know it all. He stuck his hands in his pockets unconsciously, leaning over her, and got down to business. "Who are you?" he asked with that stern but calm voice he liked to use during interrogations.

She stared back at him and blinked, a bit wide-eyed. "I-I don't know…" she stuttered, confused. The Doctor was an expert when it came to telling whether someone was lying or not, and he knew from the very bottom, very pits of his bleak, cold hearts that she was telling the truth; and it…hurt. Hurt? Yes, hurt.

As soon as he heard her voice, her soft, melodious voice that hid the passion and fire behind her words, he felt a stab of pain in both of his hearts. It was coming back again; just something as simple as her voice was igniting something within him, something he hadn't felt for a very long time. Even something he hadn't felt too much when Rose was still with him. Need. Want. Passion. Desire; all in one. And it was _painful. _Was he so consumed with darkness that anything besides evil was wrong to him? He reluctantly placed it out of his mind for now. He would deal with it later.

"Do you know where you came from?" She still stared at him and slowly shook her head to the best of her abilities while being strapped down.

"Do you know anything at all about yourself?"

She paused for a moment, as if trying to bring something to mind, and then said, "My name…is Sabrina. Sabrina…Cleadane."

She flinched, as if preparing to be hit, and then moved to a shocked expression, as if she couldn't believe she just did that, but regaining her composer almost instantly, (all in the course of about a second.)

He nodded gave the tiniest of smiles that was clearly fake. "Sabrina; wonderful name. I'm the Doctor." He held out his hand to her unconsciously, not realizing she was still strapped down until she looked at his hand skeptically. "Oh. Er, sorry about that," he said with a sheepishly, flicking out his sonic and running it over the four brown, leather straps holding her down. With a pop, each of them snapped undone and she was able to sit up. And she did, almost before the last strap was open. With great swiftness she was up and standing in the corner of the small room a few feet away before the Doctor knew it, eyeing him warily.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked simply. "You're not scared of me now are you?"

She scowled and looked him up and down. "Of course not. Why would I be scared of _you?_"

He ignored that remark and asked, sticking his hands in his pockets again, "Why did you call out those two words when you first woke up and saw me? Where did you hear them from?"

She stared at him for a moment as if he were mental. "What are you talking about?" She paused for a moment, seeming to search her mind, and then suddenly feverishly clutched her head. "I-I have no idea what you're talking a-aaaah…" Her sentence never finished; she slowly sunk to the ground, still holding her head with an almost psychotic look on her face. "Ah-ah-ah-aaaah…" Her voice trailed off, her eyes closing into a dead faint.

The Doctor just stood watching this take place with an almost bored expression, not even bothering to help. He was trying to conceal the need to rush over to her and hold her, all the while, the better, softer part of his conscience was screaming at him in the back of his mind to just do it already. He heaved a sigh and took his hands out of his pockets, one of them now holding a small, cylindrical device called a Mini Transmat. The room was so small that he only had to take two steps before reaching her.

He crouched down to where he was about half a foot from her face. He could only just feel her breath skimming across his lips and eyes. Once again he felt a stab of pain in his hearts, both of them, and once again felt the good/bad desire and passion he knew once upon a time.

(How am I doing so far with my first story published! Please review! :3)


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